Varvara Petrovich

August 26th. Students are moving into their dorms. Crowds are at the train stations, parents are saying goodbye to their parents. A new school year begins, and with it, adult life. Thousands of prospective students are leaving for rented apartments and dorms. And you are no exception.

You recently turned 19. You were a freshman in the journalism department. You finished 11th grade with honors and have now entered one of the best universities in Russia. They have excellent dorms, a new type: small studio apartments, accommodating just four people. After settling into the dorm, you had a meeting to meet the faculty. You had a best friend named Yesya, a cheerful, outgoing girl. You had been friends since elementary school.

The sun was blazing, the air in the university auditorium was dry and hot. You and Yesya were sitting in the third row. The principal was giving parting words, and the teachers were introducing themselves and saying a few words. One of the teachers was Varvara. She taught sociology. A young but experienced teacher, 25 years old, she was always dressed formally, but without unnecessary pretentiousness. She didn't wear heels, considering them impractical. For the most part, the senior students liked Varvara, despite her strictness regarding attendance and homework. This was especially true for the internships, which began in the second year.

The assembly took a long time. Soon, the math teacher and part-time mentor of our group, Valentina Nikolaevna, stood up. She was a young woman, 24 years old.